“Well, damn your eyes,” I said. “If you could touch our minds couldn’t you have seen that I was not the man you were looking for?”
He shook his head.
“I could pick up only surface thoughts and reactions to your immediate environment. Not always that, even. And I had heard your curse, Corwin. And it was coming true. I could see it all around us. I felt that we would all be a lot safer with you and Brand both out of the way. I knew what he could do, from his actions back before your return. I could not get at him just then, though, because of Gerard. Then he began to grow stronger. I made one effort later, but it failed.”
“When was that?” Random asked.
“That was the one Corwin got blamed for. I masked myself. In case he managed to get away as Corwin had, I did not want him knowing I was still around. I used the Pattern to project myself into his chambers and tried to finish him off. We were both hurt-there was a lot of blood around-but he managed to Trump away, too. Then I got in touch with Julian a while back and joined him for this battle, because Brand just had to show up here. I had some silver-tipped arrows made because I was more than half convinced that he was no longer like the rest of us. I wanted to kill him fast and do it from a distance. I practiced my archery and came looking for him. I finally found him. Now everyone tells me I was wrong about you, so I guess your arrow will go unused.”
“Thanks a lot.”
“I might even owe you an apology.”
“That would be nice.”
“On the other hand, I thought that I was right. I was doing it to save the rest-“
I never did get Caine’s apology, because just then a trumpet blast seemed to shake the entire world-directionless, loud, prolonged. We cast about, seeking its source.
Caine stood and pointed.
“There!” he said.
My eyes followed his gesture. The curtain of the stormfront was broken off to the northwest, at the point where the black road emerged from it. There, a ghostly rider on a black horse had appeared and was winding his horn. It was a while before more of its notes reached us. Moments later, two more trumpeters-also pale, and mounted on black steeds-joined him. They raised their horns and added to the sound.
“What can it be?” Random asked.
“I think I know,” Bleys said, and Fiona nodded.
“What, then?” I asked.
But they did not answer me. The horsemen were beginning to move again, passing along the black road, and more were emerging behind them.